


You'd Best Enjoy the Ride

by dharmaavocado



Series: Hounds of Love [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 16:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharmaavocado/pseuds/dharmaavocado
Summary: Torrent had been deployed to Sarrish for two months when the personhood bill made it out of committee and, coincidentally, an attempt was made on his life.  Sadly, that was not the worst part of Obi-Wan’s week.In which there is the personal, the political, and where the two meet.





	You'd Best Enjoy the Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Title takes from the the Tv On The Radio song _Let the Devil In_.
> 
> Much like the timeline, we're playing calvinball with the political system because it's Star Wars and nothing makes sense.

Torrent had been deployed to Sarrish for two months when the personhood bill made it out of committee and, coincidentally, an attempt was made on his life. Sadly, that was not the worst part of Obi-Wan’s week.

“Really, my dear,” he said as R4 paced a continuous circuit before his office door, constantly scanning the corridor outside. “I doubt they’ll try again today, especially with the building in lockdown.”

She paused in her next loop. He was lacking any evidence in support of that statement. And she had done the math; statistically speaking, he was irritating enough to warrant multiple assassination attempts per day.

“And rather famously no one has ever made a mathematical error before.”

She rocked back in offense. Her equations were _perfect_. Name one time there was an error in her math. He couldn’t, could he? That’s because she never made a mistake.

“If you never make a mistake then what do you call that miscalculation on Mandalore?”

That was not her fault. She was given incorrect data, and therefore no blame could be assigned to her for the faulty trajectory.

“And by faulty trajectory you mean when you steered us off a cliff.”

Before R4 could do more than redirect power to her processors for what Obi-Wan knew from past experience was certain to be quite the tirade, Commander Fox keyed the door open and nearly tripped over her when R4 refused to move from his path. Obi-Wan pretended not to notice the undignified hop Fox executed to maintain his balance.

“Commander,” he said once Fox was steady on his feet. “Is there an update on the situation?”

It had been several hours since the contaminated food was taken away and the kitchen staff detained for questioning. Obi-Wan held little hope of the assailant being among the group; even the barely competent would have fled after slipping in the poison.

“We’re lifting the lockdown,” Fox said, confirming Obi-Wan’s suspicions. He took the seat Obi-Wan offered, which was the chair he reserved for his favored guests.

Obi-Wan sat behind his desk, moving the stack of pads to the side. “I believe this is where you begin questioning me?”

“And I believe the correct term is interview.” Fox pulled out his own pad and, after a moment of hesitation, removed his helmet and set it on the one clear corner of the desk.

Brothers, in Obi-Wan’s experience, preferred their helmets to bare faces around natural borns. There was a metaphor there about how each helmet was carefully individualized while the faces underneath were, well, Obi-Wan didn’t care to go searching for it. All he knew was that it certainly took him long enough to coax Rex out of his helmet when they weren’t taking meals together.

Fox was taking this seriously if he thought Obi-Wan would be more comfortable without that barrier between them, and he appreciated the consideration.

Fox sat straight backed and asked, “Did you have reason to suspect your food was poisoned?”

“No,” he answered honestly, reaching for a stylus so as to occupy his hands. He wished for a cup of tea, but R4 refused to allow him any food or drink until she had the opportunity to scan his entire pantry.

Fox made a note. “Is it standard procedure for your droid to scan your meals?”

Her designation was R4-P17 and not, she said with disdain dripping from every whistle, _droid._ She addressed him by his name and not as CC-1010 and would appreciate him extending the same respect to her.

Fox’s expression didn’t change, but there was something contrite in his voice as he said, “My apologies, R4.”

“You understand binary?” Obi-Wan asked, surprised.

“There are droids everywhere on Coruscant. It was more practical to learn than to rely on a translator.”

Most organics didn’t think so. Most never even bothered with a translator, not when it was easier to pull them open and rewire their language processors, as if binary was a defect that needed to be patched.

“I know,” Obi-Wan said softly. R4 had abandoned her post at the door to take up her customary protective position at his side, and he rested a hand along her dome. “We’ll get binary recognized as its own distinct cultural language. I promise.”

She knew, she trilled quietly, and nudged up against his knee.

Fox cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. “Is it standard procedure for you to scan Senator Kenobi’s food?”

It was one of her protocols. He had a rare allergy to asafetida, and when at a state dinner the local regent neglected to inform them her people used it as a common seasoning in their cooking, Obi-Wan had gone into anaphylactic shock. She subsequently installed a subroutine devoted to scanning and analyzing the chemical composition of any organic nourishment he may ingest as he clearly could not be trusted to do check on his own.

Fox’s eyebrows rose very slightly.

“She takes her duties very seriously,” Obi-Wan said.

One of them had to make sure he didn’t die, and since he showed no interest in maintaining his health, the responsibility defaulted to her.

“I see,” Fox said, tone carefully inflectionless as he made another note. “How long as this subroutine been operational?”

“Ten years,” he answered, only for R4 to immediately correct him. “Ah, my mistake. Thirteen.”

“And she scans every meal?” Fox asked.

“She does.”

She even scanned the food on board _The Resolute,_ which had earned them several curious stares from Torrent. When he explained, Rex had nodded seriously and gone to inform the kitchen staff of his allergy. An unnecessary precaution, given the low likelihood of any sort of seasoning being used in standard mess fare much less something as unusual as asafetida, but Rex had insisted and Obi-Wan had been charmed by it.

“I assume this is relatively common knowledge,” Fox said.

“I’ve never bothered to hide it,” Obi-Wan answered, following Fox’s reasoning; if it was no secret of R4 scanning his meals for allergens than this attempt on his life spoke more to haste than diligence. The implications to that were worrying. R4 echoed his thoughts with a low whistle.

“Do you have any enemies?” Fox asked.

“I'm a politician,” he said dryly. “I have my share. R4 has compiled a list.”

Fox’s pad beeped as R4 transmitted it. Fox’s expression remained unchanged, but he projected an air of weariness. “This is extensive.”

R4 didn’t know why he was bothering to be surprised. Fox had met Obi-Wan; he knew about Obi-Wan’s personal faults.

“Yes, thank you,” Obi-Wan said. “Your support is, as always, appreciated.”

She buzzed a snicker.

Fox scrolled through the list. “Hondo Ohnaka?”

“Adventures from my misspent youth,” Obi-Wan said, ignoring R4’s judgmental whistle. “I wouldn’t worry about him. There’s no legitimacy to any of his threats. At heart, he’s a businessman. As his mother likes to say, why kill a hostage when you can ransom them instead?”

“You’re not currently a hostage.”

“The point still stands.”

Fox’s eyebrows climbed. “The Hutt syndicate?”

“Ah, that one I’ve inherited. Before my sisters and I were born, my mothers were part of the operation that infiltrated and dismantled the Hutt’s various slavery rings. My oldest sister followed in their footsteps when they retired. Her last tour ended just before the war broke out, and she’s now serving as ancillary support to the 402nd. While the Hutts are not overly fond of my family, I find it hard to believe this is their work. They prefer much more active means of disposal to poison.”

R4 had taken that into consideration and sorted the list with the most likely suspects at the top.

“I see Senator Burtoni has a high spot,” Fox said.

“Does she?” Obi-Wan asked innocently.

Fox gave him an irritated look that meant Obi-Wan wasn’t fooling anyone, but before Fox could ask another question, they were interrupted by raised voices outside the door. Obi-Wan reached for the blaster strapped to the underside of his desk as Fox stood and placed himself before Obi-Wan.

The door opened to a harried trooper saying, “Ma’am, I'm under strict orders that no one is allowed—”

“And I’ve told you it doesn’t apply to me,” Efemena said, pushing past him and into the office. “They done with you?”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hello, Efemena. How lovely of you to join us.”

“Senator,” Fox said, only marginally relaxing. “Due to the situation, I must ask you to—”

“Just the man I wanted to see,” Efemena said, promptly shoving two bags into his hands. “I’ve brought that for you.” She took the chair Obi-Wan reserved for his less favored guests.

“Please tell me that isn’t food,” Obi-Wan said.

“I assumed you haven’t eaten yet,” she answered. “No need for alarm. If I wanted you dead I wouldn’t bother with these games. R4 can check it.”

R4 did and reluctantly announced it was not contaminated, although she would not recommend consuming it as she had observed Efemena’s dietary choices.

Efemena barked out a laugh. “I’ve always liked that droid of yours. She says exactly what she thinks. Don’t look so worried. I ordered from that diner you like. That,” she said pointing to the other bag, “is for you, Commander. Mon Calamari pastries, the best you’ll find on Coruscant. I do hope you’ll enjoy it.”

“I'm on duty,” Fox said, although Obi-Wan noticed he did peek into the bag as he set it aside.

Efemena glanced at Fox’s pad. “Is that R4’s suspect list? Am I on it?”

“No,” Obi-Wan answered.

“Shame.” She shifted in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position Obi-Wan knew didn’t exist. “You know how I feel about you.”

“I should advise you against incriminating yourself,” Fox said, sounding nearly amused even as he took a seat and angled his pad screen away from Efemena.

She snorted. “If I wanted Kenobi dead I wouldn’t botch the job. It would make my life easier if he had bought it. I’d turn him into a martyr and get that bill signed into law within a month.”

Obi-Wan didn’t doubt it. Efemena was terribly effective when she decided on a cause. It was half the reason why he wanted her to meet Rex.

“You’ve lifted the lockdown,” she continued. “I'm assuming our erstwhile poisoner gave you the slip.’

Fox sighed and said, “They did. They were using forged documents that listed them as a refugee from Aleen here on a work for ration visa.

“Blast,” Obi-Wan muttered as Efemena’s expression soured.

The isolationists were going to use this as yet another excuse to limit refugees seeking asylum on Core worlds. If they were feeling particularly clever, which had been known to happen on occasion, they would attach the restrictions as a rider onto the personhood bill; they either got what they wanted or killed a piece of legislation they hated. It was what he would do in their position.

“A problem for tomorrow,” Efemena decided. “Anyone claim responsibility for this?”

“Not yet,” Fox answered. “We’re looking at the usual suspects.”

“Which are?”

“I can’t divulge all the details of our investigation.” Fox’s expression didn’t change but for the slightest uptick at the corner of his mouth. “There would be nothing left for me to do.’

“Well, I’d hate for you to be bored.” She shifted again. “Hell, Kenobi, what is wrong with this chair?”

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan said. “Perhaps you’re just sitting in it wrong.”

Efemena finally gave up, choosing to lean back with legs crossed. “I’d half expected to see the senate guard in here or Inspector Divo. How did you get stuck with this?”

That was a good question; both the senate guard and Coruscant police tended towards territorialism and held the clones in relatively low esteem.

“I didn’t get stuck,” Fox said. “I pulled rank. It seemed easier than explaining to Rex I left this to the natural borns.”

Obi-Wan refused to react to Efemena’s delighted laugher, which was echoed by R4. “I was unaware you and Captain Rex were so close.”

“He’s a brother,” Fox said, which meant they crossed paths often enough to be familiar but were not as close as batchmates.

“I suppose he’ll have access to your report?”

Fox’s blank professional expression rivaled that of Cody’s. “He has clearance, but it’s unlikely he’ll read it, given the way Sarrish is going.” He paused and then said, careful, “It might be better if he didn’t learn this from a report.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Obi-Wan said, and ignored R4’s unkind remarks regarding his emotional intelligence.

“You seem to have this well in hand, Commander,” Efemena said, lingering a beat too long on his title.

Fox cleared his throat and refused to look in her direction. “One more thing. I'm assigning you a protection detail. Lieutenant! Get in here!” A trooper with a series of intricate intersecting lines painted on his helmet ducked inside. “This is Lieutenant Ghost. He’ll be switching off with Corporals Wave and Chik. They’ll be shadowing you until further notice.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Obi-Wan said quickly, and kicked R4 when she trilled her disagreement only for her to run over his toes in retaliation.

“Someone tried to kill you,” Fox said, unimpressed. “And given the strong likelihood it’s linked to your latest legislative effort, another attempt may be made. They might even actually try on that one.”

“That’s a certainty, given the mouth on him,” Efemena said, sounding delighted by the prospect.

“Yes, thank you for your input,” Obi-Wan said, unable to keep the irritation from slipping through. “I can look after myself.”

Fox retrieved his helmet. “You retain the right to refuse, of course, but you can be the one to tell Rex.”

“You’ve overstepped your bounds, Commander,” Obi-Wan snapped.

Fox’s expression didn’t waver. “My apologies, sir.”

R4 pointedly prodded his knee, and Obi-Wan sighed, and said, “But you’ve made your point.”

“It’s a temporary measure,” Fox assured him. “Besides, we hear your bill stipulates owed back pay if it passes. We have a vested interest in keeping you alive.”

“I appreciate that,” Obi-Wan said dryly as Fox put his helmet back on.

“Do you need anything else, Senators?”

“Don’t forget your pastries, Commander,” Efemena said, gesturing to the bag Fox had placed on the desk.

Fox hesitated a moment before grabbing it. “Thank you, Senator.”

“You can all me Efe,” she said, and winked.

It was impossible to know what Fox’s expression was under his helmet, but he went stiff backed in the same way Rex did when he was terribly embarrassed but refused to admit it. Without another word, Fox turned on his heel and left at a speed that was slightly slower than a run.

“Really, Efemena,” Obi-Wan said once he was gone.

“Don’t sound so scandalized. You’re not the only one who’s allowed to step out with them.”

Lieutenant Ghost made a noise that could, if one was of a charitable mind, be called a cough.

“You’re twice his age,” Obi-Wan said.

“ _You’re_ lecturing me about the age gap?”

Well, he had walked into that one as R4’s snicker could attest to.

“If you could give us a moment, Lieutenant,” Obi-Wan said instead of addressing Efemena’s point.

“I’ll be outside, sir,” Ghost said, and gave them privacy.

Once they were alone, he said, “Why are you really here?”

“Perhaps I wanted to verify your continued good health for myself.” At his raised eyebrows, Efemena said, “We’ll need to take control of this narrative if we want to make sure we don’t lose support. If we’re lucky this will turn out to be the work of a single disturbed individual disagreeing with your politics.”

And if they were unlucky then the bill would be dead before it even reached the floor.

“I suppose you have Organa dealing with the media,” he said.

“They love him.” Efemena shrugged; his poll numbers were certainly better than theirs. “You’ll need to release a statement. Maybe do the morning holo circuit.”

He grimaced. “I’d rather not.”

“And I’d rather not have to deal with Orn Free Taa who’s probably pissing himself right now, but we all have our burdens to bear.”

“Reach out to Cham Syndulla. He can apply pressure to make sure Taa doesn’t change his vote. R4 will send you his comm channel.”

“You’ll need to set up a meeting with the Kel Dor delegation,” Efemena said, pulling out her own pad. “They like you more than me. Amidala can handle the refugee angle. That’s already her pet cause.”

“And there’s Halle Burtoni,” Obi-Wan said. “She’s hinted at a legal challenge, which should be quite interesting considering cloning has been illegal for a century now.”

“My guess is the long necks are going to argue the intellectual property route.” Efemena’s mouth twisted in distaste.

“We can only be so lucky.” He rubbed his forehead. “That will do more to earn support for the bill than any speeches we give.’

“You’d be surprised,” she said, sounding as cynical as he felt.

Obi-Wan set his pad aside and took in the pinched corners of Efemena’s eyes and the sallow green of her skin. “Why are you doing this?” he asked quietly. “You’ve made your feelings for me quite clear.”

“Haven’t you figured it out?” she asked, although the words lacked her customary bite as she studied him as he was studying her. She was not old for a Rodian, but she was no longer young, and Obi-Wan was uncomfortably reminded that she had been playing this game far longer than him.

“Figured what out?” he asked.

“And here I was just beginning to think you’re not as dumb as you look.” She stood and nodded to the takeaway bag. “Try to eat something. You look like bantha shit.”

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Efemena,” he said, moving to walk her to the door.

She waved his offer away. “Yeah, I'm a real delight. R4, make sure he tells his captain before the poor man hears about it from Kusak News.”

That, R4 assured her, was not going to be a problem.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“If I’m unlucky enough,” she agreed, and nodded to Ghost on her way out.

“Do you need anything, sir?” Ghost asked once she had gone.

R4 gently prodded him in the calf.

Obi-Wan gathered his things, and said, “If you could please arrange transportation, I would like to go home.”

How surprisingly reasonable of him, R4 observed as she reinitiated her security protocol. He was really growing as a person.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, and pretended not to hear Ghost smothering another cough.

* * *

It was dark by the time they arrived at his apartment. They were met two troopers who snapped to attention as they landed.

“Is this really necessary?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes,” Ghost and R4 said in unison. Ghost added, “We needed to make sure the area was secure.”

“And is it?”

The troopers nodded when Ghost looked to them for confirmation, and so Obi-Wan gratefully let himself inside, R4 on his heels. He turned on the lights as he went through the rooms: entranceway, hall, main room, R4’s office. He hesitated outside the kitchen, unbearably tired as he looked over the cabinets and refrigeration unit. Everything would need to be cleaned out and replaced.

R4 gave a reassuring trill and nudged his calf with more care than she could usually be bothered with.

“I suppose you want to do a full inventory scan,” he said, grateful as always for her steady presence.

She did. They both know he wouldn’t be able to sleep if she didn’t. It would settle both their nerves, even if they were going to throw it all out in the morning.

“You don’t have nerves.”

But he unfortunately did, and she was doing her best to accommodate his faulty software. Oh, and there were no contaminants. His horrible tea was safe.

“It’s not horrible.” He made a cup he wouldn’t drink. “And it’s not like you would know. You don’t ingest—how did you put it? Oh yes, unpleasantly moist organic materials.”

It _was_ unpleasantly moist. And Rex said it was horrible. She trusted his judgment.

“And you don’t trust mine?”

The slow swivel of her dome towards him was his only answer.

“I suppose that is fair,” he allowed because there were very few beings who knew him better than her.

He took his drink and went to show Ghost where he could access the apartment security system R4 took great pride in. It was, of course, considered a nightmare of a program by everyone else, including R2 the one time R4 relented and allowed him a look.

“Anything I can do to help, Lieutenant?” he asked as Ghost was frowning down at interface screen.

“No, sir,” he said. He tapped the screen, which only resulted in angry buzzing. “I am not familiar with the program.”

Well, he wouldn’t be. R4 rolled towards his side. This was her own work, and it was the only one in existence. And she would appreciate it if he treated it with some respect and stop blindly poking about.

“I’ll leave you to it, shall I?” he said. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything, Lieutenant, but you’re in good hands. Metaphorically speaking.”

He left Ghost to R4’s tender mercies, the poor man, and retreated to his bedroom where everything was the same as he left it that morning: sheets crumpled at the bottom of the bed where he kicked them off before dawn, half a dozen pads spread across the bedside table and over the spare pillow, cups of cold tea left on every available surface. It was the kind of mess Rex hated but pretended didn’t bother him.

Obi-Wan set his current cup of tea down next to its brethren. He unwound the sash in his clan’s colors from his waist and then started on the row of buttons on his jacket and then the shirt underneath, both of which he hung neatly on hooks where they would be collected for cleaning in the morning. He usually tossed all his clothes on the chair in the corner, and while there was something oddly endearing in the way the muscle in Rex’s jaw jumped whenever he noticed the pile, Obi-Wan preferred him relaxed, and this was the least he could do.

Once he changed clothes, he made himself comfortable in bed and began sorting through the day’s messages while the tea grew cold. Hye’Tzin, his chief of staff, had sent him a draft of his official statement for approval. He made changes to the second, third, and fifth paragraphs and sent it back. As terrifyingly efficient and competent as she was, Hye’Tzin’s lack of appreciation for poetry left her writing dry and stilted where it would benefit from some softness.

The next item was his informal update to Stewjon’s current government. An assassination attempt, even one as clumsy as this, needed to be reported to the prime minister, and so he made mention toward the end, after where the personhood bill stood but before observations regarding Palpatine’s tightening hold on both the senate and the military.

That done, he had no more excuses to avoid his personal matters. He sent a short message to his family that he was fine and they needn’t worry; it was only a minor poisoning attempt. After a moment of consideration, he forwarded it to Satine, as they were still friends, even if they suffered their share of political disagreements.

And then only Rex remained.

He keyed in the Rex’s personal comm frequency, trying to remember the time difference between Coruscant and Sarrish before giving up. It was either too early or too late, and even if it wasn’t there was no guarantee Rex would be able to answer. The latest news from the Outer Rim had been more grim than hopeful.

Better to record something, he decided, but he was still staring at his comm when R4 bustled in, complaining that her system was very intuitive and she didn’t understand Ghost’s inability to follow her extremely simple instructions.

“My dear,” he said, setting the comm aside, “nothing about you is simple.”

She wished she could say the same about him.

“Are you insulting my intelligence?”

How clumsy of her. Her intent was not to insult his intelligence but to call into question if he possessed any at all. Considering the terabytes of data she collected through the years, the inescapable conclusion was that no, he did not.

Snickering at his sigh, she settled into her auxiliary charging port next to the bed. She usually preferred the one in her own office as it afforded her a modicum of privacy, but there were nights like these where they both were in need of each other’s company.

None of his messages were addressed to Rex, she noted once she had made herself comfortable.

“I have asked you multiple times to refrain from accessing my personal communications.” He locked his pad out of principle as there had yet been a firewall invented that could keep out a determined R4.

She wouldn’t need to access anything if he could actually deal with all his feelings like the adult of his species he claimed to be. Honestly, there were mouse droids out there with more emotional intelligence than him.

“This is none of your business.”

His wellbeing had been her business since he was a child, and since he had decided Rex was integral to that wellbeing, that made Rex her business as well.

Somehow Obi-Wan always managed to forget that R4 was not an organic and thus saw no need to prevaricate about her affections. It was humbling when faced with a devotion he could only hope to be worthy of.

“I adore you,” he said, because he did, every bit of him.

Of course he did. She was far too good for him.

He laughed softly, running a fond hand along her dome. “You are at that.”

Then he should listen to her and stop making this complicated.

“I'm not making anything complicated,” he protested.

Incorrect. He made everything complicated. It was exhausting, having to sort out his messes.

“I don’t recall asking for your assistance.”

Because he never asked for what he needed. It was another of his failings, but one she was used to.

“Are you just going to insult me all night?” he said, because there was a grain of truth to her words he would rather not examine too closely.

R4 rocked slightly in a shrug, left to right, and said she would only until he contacted Rex.

If only it was that easy, Obi-Wan thought, sitting on the new mattress he ordered. It was firmer than the old one and thus better for Rex’s back. It hadn’t arrived until after Torrent shipped out again. Not long after that he had reorganized his closet so that the left side was empty, ready to be filled with the clothes Obi-Wan found himself unable to resist buying for Rex, all of which were soft and heavy enough to make up for the lack of armor.

He was also slowly collecting recipes he thought Rex would enjoy, meals from his childhood and favorites he discovered over the years. The pantry he filled with Rex’s favorite foods, or at least foods Rex seemed to prefer as he would eat anything put in front of him. But Obi-Wan found Rex like fresh fruit and vegetables, and no loaf of bread was safe around him as he would tear off pieces to dip in the citrus oil Obi-Wan imported from Stewjon.

He was, Obi-Wan was surprised to discover, building something for Rex to return to.

_I think of this_ , Rex had said to him, as if Obi-Wan was worth that. _About you. Whenever I couldn’t sleep or when I thought I would—I would think of you._

“I'm supposed to be safe,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I'm not supposed to be something he needs to worry about.”

R4 was quiet but for the soft whir of her processors before she said, gentle, that Obi-Wan did not get to make that decision for Rex.

When he still hesitated, she gave a sharp whistle and remote activated the recorder. She had to do everything around here.

Well, he supposed, that decided it.

“Hello, Rex,” he said, wishing he had a moment to straighten his hair. “There was an incident today.” That was ominous, and he quickly added, “I'm fine, as you can see. No cause for alarm.”

Very reassuring, R4 said, rolling over so the recorder field picked her up. Someone tried to poison him, but she put a stop to it before anything could happen. She had it all under control.

“So there’s clearly no reason to be concerned,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Fox is investigating, and I have every faith in his ability to find the culprit.” He leaned in close and dropped his voice. “Just between us, Fox seemed more concerned with your reaction if he doesn’t.”

R4 snickered.

“I know there’s no use in telling you not to worry, but try to remember I can handle this.” At R4’s indignant beep, he added, “ _We_ can handle it.” She whistled. He sighed. “R4 will handle everything.”

She _definitely_ had this, and Rex should concentrate on making sure Anakin did not get him killed.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes so only Rex, watching the recording later, would see. “Keep yourself safe, if only for Anakin’s sake.” And then, just before R4 cut the recording, quietly added, “I miss you.”

He half-expected a smart remark from R4, but she only informed him that she was initiating standard encryption and the message would go out with the next scheduled data burst. Rex would receive it soon.

“Good,” Obi-Wan said, tired.

Now that wasn’t too hard, was it?

He rolled his eyes again and hit the lights. “Good night,” he said pointedly. “Try to keep me alive till the morning, if you would be so kind.”

If she must, and Obi-Wan fell asleep to the slow sweep of her security program, the mattress firm and unyielding under his back.

* * *

He woke to the persistent chiming of his comm, and Obi-Wan groped for it in a desperate attempt to silence the blasted thing. He hit it, and the thing went blessedly quiet before going off once more, but before he could do more than open one eye in a glare, his sister said, “Did you just send me to your inbox?”

Obi-Wan groaned, and said, “R4, what did I say about my personal communications?”

It was his sister, and frankly R4 was disappointed he was trying to avoid her, given how worried she was.

“And I am desperately worried,” Ellie agreed, wide-eyed and innocent. “You could have _died_ , Ben.”

“And yet I obviously still live.” He gave in to the inevitable and sat up, trying to push his hair into some semblance of order and, judging by the twin snickers from Ellie and R4, failing. “You’ve come closer to killing me than this would be assassin.”

He was welcome by the way, R4 pointedly interjected.

“Thank you for keeping this idiot alive,” Ellie said. “I know it’s not easy.”

At least someone appreciated her, R4 grumbled before retreating to give them what Obi-Wan knew was only the semblance of privacy.

He sighed. “Did you have to rile her up again? I just got her calmed down. She’s going to hover all day now.”

“Oh, yes, how terrible, having someone concerned over your well being.” The connection, unstable from being bounced through so many relays, stuttered and dropped for a moment only to snap back into focus to Ellie shouting, “For fuck’s sake, Junior, I thought you said you fixed this!”

“I did!” presumably Junior shouted back. “Stop messing with the yellow wi—yes, that one! Leave it alone. It’ll stabilize if you’ll just be patient.”

“So it will never stabilize,” Obi-Wan said, amused.

“Is that little Ben?” Junior stuck his head into view. “Hey, you’re not dead!”

“I am not,” he agreed, glancing pointedly at Ellie.

“Glad to hear it,” Junior continued, oblivious to the look Obi-Wan and his sister were exchanging. “El was real shook up about it.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, thank you,” Ellie said. “Can I get some privacy?”

“Oh, that’s adorable.” Junior turned to shout to someone outside of the field. “El wants some privacy!”

The statement was meant by laughter, and Ellie rolled her eyes and shoved at Junior until he went with only minor grumbling.

“Junior?” Obi-Wan asked once he was gone.

“Kid didn’t have a name when he was assigned to us,” she said with a shrug. “And he sort of imprinted on me that first month.”

“Ah, the obvious choice, then.” He leaned in closer to the comm, casting a critical eye over her. Her shoulders were curved inward, more from exhaustion than poor posture, and there were dark smudges under her eyes and in the hollows of her cheeks. It was hard to tell with the poor connection, but he thought there was a touch more grey in her hair than the last time they spoke. “Are you all right?”

“Don’t try to deflect from your mess.”

“Eilio-wen.”

She gave a theatrical wince. “The full name.” Obi-Wan waited with the learned patience only a full session of the senate could instill until Ellie broke first and said, “I hate when you pull the senator face on me. I'm fine. It’s just been…difficult lately.”

Worry curdled his stomach. “I thought you weren’t involved in any active zones.”

“No, we’re still doing milk runs.” She and her crew served as logistical support, ferrying everything from supplies to troops to the various outposts along the Mid Rim. “But it’s getting worse. More replacements are called up every day, and now we’re—” She broke off, jaw gone tight. “We’re bringing remains back.”

He sucked in a breath. “Oh, El,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” she agreed, and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. “It could be worse. Crashdown’s finally figured out which way is up and probably won’t kill us all next time we enter atmo.”

She raised her voice on the last sentence, and right on cue, as if they rehearsed it, Crashdown shouted, “Fuck you, Kenobi! That was one time, and it was only because you keep rewiring the damned controls!”

“You do have a bad habit of that,” Obi-Wan said.

“Keeps them on their toes.” The connection froze, before stuttering back into focus as she banged a fist against the console. Her voice softened as she asked, “How you doing, kid?”

He pulled up a smile. “I've had worse days.”

“Don’t use your public relations voice on me. I'm your sister. How are you?”

He opened his mouth.

“And,” she added quickly, “if you say you’re fine I will go AWOL and fly to Coruscant just to punch you. You know I will.”

“I think I may still be bruised from the last one,” he said, rubbing his shoulder.

Unwilling to be distracted, she said, “Stop making me drag this out of you. How are you really?”

If it had been one of his other sisters or even his mothers, Obi-Wan would have made a joke and carefully deflected, but it was Ellie, who always saw through him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t like the implications of this.”

“You knew the bill wasn’t going to be popular,” she said.

“No, it’s not that. This was very sloppy. It would take less than five minutes of research to discover R4 scans and analyzes my meals and choose another method other than poison.”

“Which suggests that your death wasn’t the goal.” She blew out a breath. “Intimidation to get you to pull the bill maybe?”

“Possibly, but it seems like quite the effort given that we don’t currently have the votes to pass, and public support is less than I would hope.”

Her head cocked to the side. “What’s the angle, then?”

He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I don’t know.”

“And you _hate_ not knowing.” Her smile was fond. “You’ll figure it out. Well, actually R4 will. You can take some of the credit.”

He made a rude gesture. “Have you heard from our mothers?”

She nodded. “And the girls. Oh, and you’re welcome, by the way. I managed to convince them to stay home and not come, uh, help.”

He winced. “I appreciate that.”

“I'm the best,” she agreed, and then, casually, “How’s Rex?”

“He’s well,” Obi-Wan said, wary. There was a trap here, he was certain of it, but he couldn’t make out the shape of it.

“Good, good.” She propped her chin on her hand. “So the feelings talk went well?”

Obi-Wan glared at the door where he was sure R4 was eavesdropping behind. “There was no feelings talk.”

“There wasn’t?” Ellie asked in mock surprise. “So you didn’t have to actually tell him you were dating because you’re an asshole who refuses to discuss his emotional state like an adult?”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, smirking. “You going to introduce us anytime soon? I’ve heard so much about him.”

“From R4, I'm assuming.”

“And the boys. Apparently he and Crashdown are cousins.”

Which meant Crashdown and Rex had mutual brothers in common, but only knew each other in passing, if at that. There were nuances to clone relationships Obi-Wan was still puzzling out.

“None of you will ever meet him,” Obi-Wan said.

“Does mom know that? Because I think she’d strongly feel otherwise.”

“Someone tried to murder me yesterday, and now I have to go back to work and deal with that. I’ll speak with you later.”

There was an unintelligible shout from outside the field, and Ellie looked over. “Crashdown found a holo of your Rex.” A slow, terrifying grin overtook her face as turned back on him. “Oh, he’s a _blonde._ That explains a lot.”

“Goodbye, Eilio-Wen,” he said firmly, and cut the connection on her laughter.

He accessed the other messages; best to get it all done at once. The first was from his mothers, who were relieved to hear of his continued good health but made a point to mention they could be on Coruscant within a week if he required additional assistance. Given their method of handling situations involved quite a bit of shouting and more explosions than he was strictly comfortable with, Obi-Wan replied he was fully capable of dealing with this on his own.

His sisters’ message was, well, it was a good thing Ellie already talked them out of visiting. He had enough to worry about without them adding to the list.

Satine had sent a reply, a simple _I'm still ahead._ She had two assassination attempts to his one, a fact she was quite proud of. After all, as she was fond of reminding him, if someone didn’t want you dead then you weren’t doing your job properly.

There was nothing from Rex, which was only to be expected. Obi-Wan’s message likely hadn’t made it to its final destination, and possibly wouldn’t for some time, given the unreliable nature of the GAR’s communication system that far out along the Outer Rim. It was likely to be a week if not longer before Obi-Wan would hear anything, or so he told himself. It did little to soothe his knotted stomach.

There was nothing left for him to do but soldier on, and so he completed his usual morning routine before going to find R4, who was unsubtly nudging Ghost’s replacement to where the caf was brewing. She at least was considerate to start the kettle for his tea.

“Did you even ask…?” He looked to the brother.

“Wave, sir,” Wave said.

“Did you even ask Wave if he wanted a cup?”

Of course she did. What sort of host did he take her for? And this was the good caf he kept on hand for guests and Rex. Besides, she liked Wave. He had a bright future ahead of him.

“You’ve certainly won her over,” Obi-Wan said, fetching the milk from the refrigeration unit and, after a moment of consideration, the sugar from the cupboard as he had yet to meet a brother who didn’t eat it by the spoonful if given half a chance. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing, sir,” Wave said, bewildered. “I just mentioned I found her programming and coding impressive.”

“You might as well have proposed.” He checked the time—it wasn’t that far past dawn, but given yesterday’s events he had a long day ahead—and took down the traveler mugs.

Droids, R4 said, did not go in for that kind of thing.

“What about R2?” he asked to wind her up.

She did not disappoint.

R2-D2 and his useless husband hardly counted. They were practically organic, the way they carried on. She blamed Skywalker. He was clearly a bad influence. Look what he did to Rex.

The caf finished brewing, and Obi-Wan poured a cup for Wave, leaving him to prepare it as he liked, hiding a smile when Wave went straight for the sugar.

“Rex is fine,” Obi-Wan said, and poured the water over the tea leaves to steep. “You can’t blame Anakin for Saleucami forever.”

Maybe not for Saleucami, but she could, and did, hold him responsible for Genosis.

_Don’t much care for heights,_ Rex confessed once, like it was a personal failing. Obi-Wan had the terrible feeling that was how the Kaminoans viewed it.

Rex still had nightmares of falling off that Genosian wall, or so Obi-Wan had pieced together from what little words Rex offered when he woke, pale with shaking hands.

Obi-Wan knew Anakin since he was a boy and desperate to prove himself. He watched as the desperation bled into anger, which in turn twisted into something prideful and dangerous. He worried, some nights, that Anakin forgot how to be gentle with someone just as brittle as him.

“That’s fair,” he finally said, belated enough that R4’s whistle took on a concerned edge. “I need to go into the office, if you can arrange transport?”

“Yes, sir,” Wave said, and added quite a bit more sugar to his caf when he thought Obi-Wan wasn’t looking.

Obi-Wan did him the courtesy of not noticing, and nudged R4 so she could do the same.

* * *

Obi-Wan liked the senate in the early morning when the building was quiet and empty but for the cleaning droids and the occasional exhausted junior staffer. It was easier then to believe in the fairytale, that what they did mattered, that every piece of legislation they passed or defeated was going to make the galaxy a better place for everyone. That they could win without giving it all away.

But the dawn hours inevitably gave way to day, and the building would fill up with senators and staffers and lobbyists, and they would be right back where they started, stuck fast in place no matter how hard they forced their legs to run.

But for now the illusion held, and Obi-Wan took the opportunity to indulge it all the way up until he opened his office door to find Hye’Tzin sitting behind his desk. She didn’t bother to look up from her data pad as she said, brisk as was her way, “You were expected half an hour ago.”

“My apologies,” Obi-Wan said. “I had personal business to attend to. And I was not aware we had an appointment.”

“We did not.” The words clipped and clicked together, an oddity of Gand speech in much the same way the Gand found human speech laced with an unpleasant wetness.

“Then why do I get the feeling you’re disappointed in my perceived tardiness?”

“You have informed your family of the assassination attempt, yes?” Hye’Tzin did not address questions where she felt the answers were self-evident. “They are reassured?”

“Yes,” he said, giving up; it was impossible to steer a conversation to a place where Hye’Tzin preferred to avoid. He gave it the occasional try as he did enjoy a challenge. “Wave, could you give us a moment?”

“I’ll be outside, sir,” Wave said, and shut the door behind him.

R4 circled the desk, clearly annoyed by Hye’Tzin’s presence. The two of them were like prickly felines who did their best to pretend the other didn’t exist. It was a precarious balance that occasionally resulted in minor aggression from each side.

“Correct me if I'm mistaken,” he said, taking the good visitor’s chair, “but don’t you have your own office down the hall? I recall sparing no expense on the various plants you required.”

“It was a bribery for my services,” she said, which wasn’t inaccurate.

“An incentive,” he corrected. “And it worked.”

Hye’Tzin was difficult to read, even for a Gand, but Obi-Wan had enough practice to spot the amusement in the slow blink of her multi-faceted eyes. “So you choose to believe,” she said.

“And you hate my office,” he continued. “You avoid it.”

“It is dry.” It wasn’t an agreement, because Hye’Tzin did not agree with much. “Unpleasant.”

He crossed his left leg over his right. “Then it must be bad news to drive you here. Is it my poll numbers?”

“They are holding steady.” She tapped at her pad, but it seemed without purpose, a nervous tick for a woman who was disinclined to nerves. “They are projected to climb with the release of the statement.”

“Have we lost support for the bill?”

More tapping. “No. Senator Organa is persuasive and the public is easily swayed.”

“Your distaste of the people we represent is duly noted.” He smiled, but it faded when Hye’Tzin refused to respond to the bait. “Something has you rattled. Out with it.”

Hye’Tzin’s discipline did not allow her to do anything as crass as sigh, but a ghost of it hovered around the edges as she said, “This aired yesterday on Kusak News.”

He snorted. “They must be lamenting the fact I lived.”

She didn’t respond to that either, electing to remain silent while she brought up the appropriate program. It was one of the evening shows where the hosts at least gave a nod to unbiased reporting, unlike their morning counterparts who didn’t even attempt to hide their contempt for him. It was the fairly standard mixture of personal attacks and criticisms of his policies, nothing he hadn’t heard before and definitely not enough to unnerve Hye’Tzin.

Or at least it was right up until the host said, “It is our duty to question Senator Kenobi’s motivations behind the proposed clone personhood bill given this.”

It was a holo of him and Rex exiting Dex’s diner. Obi-Wan was smiling, turned towards Rex, who was looking over the traffic and thus didn’t see how fucking obvious Obi-Wan was. There was no mistaking it now.

R4’s whistle was high-pitched and outraged, and Obi-Wan had long since stopped being surprised by her extensive vocabulary when he caught her teaching Torrent several choice profanities.

“Stop,” he said, both to her and Hye’Tzin. “I’ve seen enough.”

Hye’Tzin closed the program, and Obi-Wan tried to remember what he and Rex had been speaking about. Dex had plied them with cups of sweet caf and plate after plate of his breakfast specials, and Rex wore the same look he had at dinner, bewildered by all the choices on offer.

“Have they identified him?” he asked.

Most of the war reporting focused on the Jedi, on Anakin and Gallia along the Outer Rim, the offenses on Ryloth and Genosis. Some airtime was given for the clones, like Commander Cody or Fox, or even Commander Bly, stationed with Aayla Secura in the Mid Rim. He couldn’t remember if any of the propaganda featured Rex out of his armor, bare faced with his distinctive blonde hair in view. He didn’t think so.

“Not as yet,” Hye’Tzin replied. “My source in the network has informed me they plan for more in depth coverage.”

R4 shook with rage. She’d like to see them broadcast anything once she was done with their system. She was going to fry everything from here to wild space.

“It’s all right,” he said, resigned. “It’s not like we weren’t aware this could happen.”

R4 spit out a few choice words, reluctantly settling when Obi-Wan smoothed his knuckles along her dome.

“I have prepared a response,” Hye’Tzin said. “Please provide your approval.”

“No.” He had the pleasure of surprising her.

“You have not reviewed it,” she said.

“I'm sure it’s exemplary, as all your work is, but we will not respond to this.”

“That would be in error.” The words were snapped now, a sharp point to ever consonant.

“When I hired you—” He stopped himself; Hye’Tzin appreciated precision. “When we agreed upon the terms of our working relationship, I informed you of areas that are off limits.”

“I recall.” She tapped her fingers along the desk. “You stated your family was not to be subjected to the media.”

“Yes,” he said meaningfully.

Hye’Tzin was a silent for a moment. “I understand,” she said, and it was impossible to tell if she disapproved or not. “There will be requests for comment.”

So respond, then, R4 said, her usual beeps harsher with annoyance. It should be easy to pivot this to the war and the sacrifices the clones were making for the Republic. Surely she was capable of keeping on message.

“A somewhat sound strategy,” Hye-Tzin agreed. “Be aware this will be used against your policies.”

“Oh, they are certainly welcome to try,” Obi-Wan said, which did not appease her. He sighed and made a sacrifice. “I will go on whatever show you deem necessary in order to bolster support for the bill.”

“I will make arrangements and adjust your calendar accordingly.”

He stood, smoothing his sash into place. “Is that all, Hye’Tzin?”

She surrendered his desk back to him. “Yes, Senator.” She hesitated at the door. “I am pleased you are unharmed.”

“Thank you,” he said, for Hye’Tzin was not suited to emotional displays.

R4 supposed it was only a matter of time before it got out. She still didn’t like it.

“I'm not particularly pleased about it either,” Obi-Wan said. The first notification that an event was added to his calendar appeared. Hye’Tzin always was efficient with her time. “We’ll deal with it.”

Of course they would, and if those fuckers insisted on going after Rex, she had a lovely virus she’d been growing for just this purpose.

He fondly bumped his knee against her side. “Only if necessary,” he said, and set to work.

* * *

The next few days took on the familiar rhythm of damage control, which was to say Obi-Wan drank too much tea and slept too little and stared at numbers that refused to tip in his favor. His days were split between meeting with various senators who were still undecided on the personhood bill but showed signs of favoring their position and appearances on whatever shows Hye’Tzin deemed necessary for their cause. He played his part without complaint, slipping between wry charm and righteous conviction as the situation called for. Despite what the various tabloids and Kusak News would claim, this had never been his favorite part of the job, but needs must.

His nights were spent with Efemena and Bail, Padmé and Ryo, the five of them stubbornly pushing forward even as exhaustion slurred their words and their eyes burned from counting the votes if the bill was put forward that day. They were still short. They were always fucking short.

And when he couldn’t even do that anymore, he went to Dex’s and drank bad caf and let Dex ply him with all manner of greasy food that didn’t solve anything but made him feel marginally better.

“I thought it would be different,” said Chik, the third member of Obi-Wan’s protection detail and the youngest, by brother standards.

He came to the unit without a name, according to R4, and followed Fox around like, well, a lost chick.

“Were you expecting more speeches calling upon the moral fortitude of our fellow citizens to do the right thing and less plates of—” he glanced down at the remains of the meal. “I honestly can’t recall what we had.”

“The house special,” Dex called from where he was cleaning the grill. The diner had closed an hour ago and Dex had sent the staff home for the night. Only Obi-Wan and Chik remained.

“That hardly answers the question,” he said, as the special changed depending on Dex’s mood and how much he liked the customer.

“I liked it,” said Chik.

“You brothers, the best customers I’ve ever had,” Dex said. Chik looked pleased.

“What were you expecting?” Obi-Wan asked, leaning over the counter to snag the pot of caf to top up Chik’s cup. It would be another four hours before he switched out with Wave.

Chik shrugged and reached for the sugar that Dex had thoughtfully refilled before retreating to the kitchen. “I don’t know. I thought the legislature would…”

“Legislate?” he suggested when Chik trailed off. “Well, that makes two of us.”

The only bills that were pushed through were those that were related to security and privacy, chipping away at both bit by bit, and in his cynical moments he wondered if Palpatine cared about how the Republic was starting to crumble in his grasp.

“Yes,” Chik said. “I thought the bill for extending credit for the most impacted systems would get more support, especially given the rider for increased background checks on refugees.”

“You have been paying attention,” Obi-Wan said. He wasn’t the only who noticed Chik’s interest. Bail had been giving him thoughtful stares, and Obi-Wan suspected if the bill passed then Fox was going to be down a trooper and Bail up a staffer.

Chik ducked his head. “It’s interesting.”

“It is indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed.

R4 prodded his knee. It was late and Obi-Wan needed to sleep or he would be useless tomorrow.

Too tired to argue, he left enough credits to pay for the meal and a large tip for Dex and his staff, and went to his apartment where there was no message from Rex waiting for him.

That was not unusual, R4 reminded him, trailing behind as Obi-Wan went through his nightly ritual. They had gone months without hearing from him before. Perhaps a relay had gone down again. The Separatists were knocking those out as quick as the Republic put them up.

“You’re probably right,” Obi-Wan said as he made himself comfortable in bed while R4 settled into her charging station. “I'm sure that’s all it is.”

Of course she was right. She was always right.

But Obi-Wan heard the worry in her beeps, and knew that by morning she would have hacked her way into the GAR’s communications to retrieve the casualty list from Sarrish, searching for Rex’s name.

She would not find it, he told himself as exhaustion took over and he slept.

* * *

Rex in bed, Obi-Wan had been delighted to discover, was not so different from Rex out of bed, which was to say what had been sweet and fumbling quickly turned into breathtakingly competent in a short order. But what Obi-Wan liked best, what left him gasping and delighted in a completely different way, was the moment Rex gave in and let himself _want._ And Obi-Wan was lucky enough to be what Rex wanted.

That was where he was now, Rex’s mouth open and lush under his, Rex’s hands skating with insistence down his ribs to his hips to his thighs, and then— _oh_ —pulling Obi-Wan closer, right where Rex wanted him. It was perfect but for the sharp pain in his foot, but Obi-Wan would bear that if it meant Rex didn’t stop, if he kept doing—

Get up! Obi-Wan! Up!

Another jab to the sole of his foot, and Obi-Wan startled awake, gasping as the dream slipped from his clumsy grasp. R4 stabbed him again, and he jerked his foot out of her reach.

“What?” he said, thoughts thick and slow with sleep.

Get up, she repeated, shaking so hard he could practically hear her bolts rattling about. There was a call. He had to take it.

“I don’t—what?” He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to marshal his senses. “What’s happening?”

It was—oh for fuck’s sake, would he just look over here.

He squinted in the direction of his comm as he fumbled for the lights, wincing when they come on too bright.

“Tell whoever it is it can wait till morning,” he said.

“My apologies, Senator,” Cody said, his image fizzing and jumping. “I forgot the time difference.”

A terrible cavern opened under him, and Obi-Wan said, operating on habitual politeness, “It’s quite all right, Commander. I hadn’t been asleep long.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for R4, soothing her shakes to a terrible, desperate vibration. “Is something wrong?”

Of course something was wrong. Why else would Cody call them?

“It’s not what you think,” Cody said. “Rex is—it’s not that.”

When he was young, no more than eight or nine, his family had taken a trip to the highlands, all of them piled into a speeder that his mother coaxed into running with alternating pleas and threats. They had stopped at a lake for the afternoon, and while their mothers laid out a late lunch, his sisters had caught him and carried him to the shore where they tossed him in. Winter had only just given way to spring, and the water left him gasping as his lungs seized, every bit of his skin stung by the cold.

But that lake had nothing on this, the way the relief cleaved through him, stealing his breath and leaving him nearly numb. And just like on that day, his lungs refused to work, caught and pinned until his body took over and he drew in one sharp breath followed by another.

That was good, R4 said into the silence, no longer trembling. She thought Rex had—

“I know what you thought,” said Cody. “You keep trying to break into our damned systems.”

She wouldn’t have to do that if they received the appropriate updates. She was not going to apologize for that, but she did appreciate his call.

“I thought you might,” Cody said, sounding tired and defeated.

It was hard to make out any details through the poor connection, but Cody damn near exuded exhaustion. He had the bearing of a man who was only standing through sheer stubbornness that could very well collapse at any moment.

“Have you slept?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes,” Cody answered.

“Recently?”

Cody’s head tipped to the side, as if he was doing a complicated bit of math in his head. “Yes,” he said again.

Liar.

“You can’t prove anything,” Cody said to R4, a wry twist to his mouth before it dropped away as if even that was too taxing to maintain. “How secure is the channel on your end?”

More secure than his. She was bouncing the frequency through a dozen different relays, the entire signal so scrambled and snarled it would take both the Separatists and Republic intelligence months to even realize a message had been sent much less what was said.

“Good,” Cody said. “Torrent has been dispatched to retake the capital. We lost contact with them four days ago.”

Obi-Wan gripped the edge of the mattress. “Have the Separatists blocked communications?”

“Most likely. Damned clankers are scrambling everything from our frequencies to local holo stations. Nothing’s getting through.” Cody scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Torrent was fine, last check in they had. They were meeting heavy resistance, but nothing unexpected. No major causalities.”

Which didn’t mean none at all, but this was war, after all. Not everyone got to walk away.

“That’s good,” Obi-Wan said. His voice sounded wrong. “I mean, that’s a good sign.”

There was a slightest lilt of a question there, one that Cody answered with a careful, “Could be worse. Torrent knows what they’re doing. They’ll get the job done.”

R4 pressed close, and Obi-Wan realized he was now the one trembling.

She asked if there was anything else.

“Not for now.” Cody hesitated a moment, and then said, “I know you sent Rex a message. Figured you’d want to know why you weren’t getting a response.”

Obi-Wan exhaled, slow and controlled. “Yes, I had been wondering.” He cleared his throat. “Did you happen to listen to it?”

“No. It’s none of my business, but I know Rex would want you to know if he—well, he’d want you to know.”

Obi-Wan nodded, quick jerks of his head as R4’s whistle grew low and mournful as she asked if Cody had informed anyone else.

“No one outside the military has been made aware,” Cody answered, deliberate spaces left between his words.

Padmé didn’t know. Obi-Wan would have to tell her.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “You didn’t have to tell us any of this.”

“I did actually.” Someone called for him, and Cody sighed. “Once communications are restored I’ll make sure the dumb fucker contacts you.”

Obi-Wan managed a thin smile. “I’ll tell him you called him that.”

“I’ve called him worse to his face,” Cody said, and ended the call.

And then he was alone but for R4, and Obi-Wan covered his face, forcing himself to breathe even and deep as R4 turned down the lights.

“Well,” he finally said, fingertips pressed to his eyes, “I think sleep might be off the agenda for now.”

The new terrible tea he ordered arrived yesterday, and she could perhaps be persuaded to prepare him a cup, just this once. Besides, he still needed to review the latest polling data, and he should do it soon before Hye’Tzin hunted him down.

He ran gentle fingers along her dome. “I don’t deserve you.”

Perhaps not, but he had her anyway. Now get up. This bill wasn’t going to pass itself.

If Wave was surprised to see them awake at this late hour, he kept it to himself, watching silently as they took a seat at the table and waited for the sun to come up.

* * *

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and did his best to ignore the throbbing in his head. He’d battled the headache all morning, but he was steadily losing ground against it. What he needed was a dark room and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. What he had was the sun glaring into his eyes and an increasingly loud argument between Efemena and Bail regarding, well, he wasn’t quite sure. It was easier to let their voices wash over him then focus on the particulars.

Efemena kicked him in the ankle. “Are you alive over there?” she demanded. “You’re suspiciously quiet.”

“My apologies,” he said even as R4 placed herself between Efemena and himself. “My mind wandered, I'm afraid.”

“Are you all right?” Padmé asked, leaning close. “You look—”

“Terrible?” he suggested with a wan smile. “I didn’t sleep well. What were you discussing?”

“Mon Mothma,” Bail said, and Obi-Wan did not miss the concerned look he exchanged with Padmé. “You’ve worked with her in the past, I believe?”

“Once or twice.” He glanced to R4 for confirmation. “Our respective parties have common areas of interest, but our legislative efforts have rarely overlapped. Why?”

“She wants to meet,” Efemena said. “Probably looking to depose the chancellor.”

Bail sighed. “You don’t know that. She has been outspoken in her criticisms, but that doesn’t mean she wants the government to fall. And I know for a fact you disagree with Palpatine’s policies, but that doesn’t mean you’re looking to get rid of him.”

“And who says I'm not?”

Bail blinked, surprised. “Then I'm afraid I don’t understand your animosity towards her.”

“She’s being stupid, and I can’t abide stupid. She’s not the only one who’s noticed the only bills he brings for a vote have to do with dismantling privacy and curtailing rights in the name of security, but she acts like she’s the only one who cares. If she really wants to get rid of him she needs to stop being so damned obvious. All it does is give him ample warning time to shore up support and find ways to discredit her.”

“So your complaint, if I follow correctly,” Obi-Wan said, “is she’s not being devious enough?”

“Forget devious. She can’t even manage subtle.”

“I'm not sure about that,” Padmé said. “I think you’re not giving her enough credit. She defeated that bill on privatizing the holo network.”

Efemena’s mouth twisted, an impressive expression on a Rodian, and did not respond, which meant Padmé won that round.

“What does she want?” Obi-Wan asked.

“She didn’t say,” Bail answered. “Maybe she wants to discuss the bill.”

Perhaps, although that seemed unlikely. She had not officially pledged her support, but it was doubtful she would vote against it, given her political history.

“It can’t hurt to find out,” Obi-Wan said, which earned him a derisive snort from Efemena. “Is there anything else?”

“I think we’ve covered everything,” Bail said, glancing to Riyo, who nodded. “We haven’t lost that much public support for the bill. We’ll keep on the media circuit. With any luck the chancellor bring the bill to vote before the end of the session.”

“We’ll see,” Efemena said, and then before Bail could do more than sigh, added, “Corporal, do you know where Fox is?”

Chik didn’t startle, as his training wouldn’t allow it, but his head did jerk up at the question, which was as good as a jump for a brother. Normally when Obi-Wan held meetings, the clones would be stationed outside the room, but given Bail’s nurturing of Chik’s political interest, he had let Chik sit in more often.

“He has this shift off, Senator,” Chik answered.

“He’ll be at the barracks, then?” she asked.

Chik nodded, and, after a moment of hesitation, asked, “May I ask why you’re looking for him? Has something happened?”

She waved a languid hand. “Oh, it’s nothing bad. The girls in R and D sent over the reworked hand plates for the next phase of armor. They increased the tensile strength along the knuckles and tweaked the kinetic absorption so it’s now equally distributed. Given your refusal to stop punching the damned clankers in their metal heads, we figured we could at least stop you from breaking your hands.”

“Oh,” Chik said, surprised but pleased, “that actually would be helpful. But why do you need the commander?”

“I was just hoping he would do me the favor of field testing them for me.”

“Oh,” Chik said again, in a completely different tone of voice. “I'm sure he would be honored, Senator, it’s just, um…”

“Yes?” Efemena prompted when he trailed off.

Chik shifted, as if he wanted to run and escape the conversation. Obi-Wan sympathized; Efemena could be quite daunting.

“It’s just among us,” Chik said slowly, as if the words were being agonizingly dragged from him, “gifting armor has a special meaning.”

They knew that, R4 informed him proudly. Well, she and Obi-Wan did. Rex carried pieces from Cody and Keeli and Snow.

The angle of his helmet suggested Chik was now gazing longingly at the door and the sweet promise of escape it offered. “That’s among batchmates. This could be, um, taken differently. Not that I think you mean it like that,” he added quickly. “But it could be, ah, construed the wrong way.”

Bail’s eyebrows climbed, and a quick look showed Riyo ducking her head to hide her amusement. Padmé shrugged; likely she knew this already from conversations with Anakin. Obi-Wan wished he could say the same. And Efemena, well, she seemed quite pleased with the conversational turn.

R4’s processors whirred quietly as she considered that. So like Echo and Fives, then. The only bits of their armor that were different were their chest plates and helmets. The rest was shared equally between the two. That clarified quite a bit for her. Thank you.

“Yes,” Efemena said with all the satisfaction of his mother’s cat when she learned to open the pantry door, “thank you. When you see Fox, let him know I'm looking for him.”

And having delivered the final word, she made her exit.

Riyo pressed a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. Bail’s eyebrows had yet to lower.

“Do you know what that was about?” Padmé asked him.

“I’ve been reliably informed I'm not the only one who’s allowed to step out with them.” He stood and straightened the fall of his sash. “Now if that’s all, Padmé, may I have a word?”

“Of course,” Padmé said as Bail dismissed them with a wave, “but make it quick. I have a meeting about the proposed cuts to education, and Threepio will be quite upset if I'm late.”

Useless, R4 whistled as she followed them out.

Obi-Wan turned them toward his office, as it was closest and was guaranteed not to be occupied by an anxious droid. “It may take longer than a moment,” he said.

His tone must have been betrayed him because Padmé cut him a worried look as Chik faded back a step to give them the illusion of privacy.

“Is something wrong?” she asked quietly.

“Isn’t there always?” he replied, and the intended irony was instead lost to weariness. He was so tired.

Before Padmé could do more than touch his elbow, Chik said, “Senator, I must ask you to step back.”

“Ah, CT-8526,” Halle Burtoni said. “How pleasing to see you again.”

“His name is Chik,” Obi-Wan said, turning to face Burtoni.

“Is it?” she said, casting a dismissive glance over Chik, who held himself so stiffly at attention Obi-Wan was surprised he wasn’t trembling from the strain. “I can never keep it straight, all their little names.”

“Is there something we can help you with, Senator?” Padmé said before R4 could do more than whistle her outrage. “I'm afraid we’re busy.”

“Trying to save your doomed endeavor no doubt.” She flicked the fingers of her left hand, each wearing a heavy ring. Obi-Wan had not met many of her people, but those he had had preferred a more subdued approach to their accessories. “We must speak. You’re dismissed, CT-8526.”

R4 bustled out from under Obi-Wan’s restraining hand, fury shaking through her frame. His named was Chik, and he did not answer to her.

“What did it say?” Burtoni asked.

“Her name is R4,” Obi-Wan answered. “And she was informing you that his name is Chik and he doesn’t take orders from you.”

Burtoni’s head, drooped low on her long neck, reared back in genuine surprise. “Of course he does. We made him.”

Padmé’s inhale was loud in the silence that followed. Even R4 was struck speechless at the audacity of the statement.

Chik cleared his throat. “My apologies, Senator, but I’ve been assigned to protect Senator Kenobi. I cannot leave.” One hand was tucked behind his back and the other rested on the blaster strapped to his thigh.

“Do you think I'm a danger to him?” she asked, jeweled hands laced together to hide their shaking. She was not as imposing as she must have once been, an elder now instead of a youth, but age brought with it cunning as well as physical cruelties, and she suffered from the latter more than the former.

At their lack of response, she sighed, neck bowing with the effort, and said, “CC-1010 has cleared me. I was not the one who tried to kill you.”

Didn’t mean she didn’t want him dead, R4 pointed out.

“I'm aware,” Obi-Wan said to Burtoni; Fox had submitted a report to him.

She smiled. “Then there is nothing preventing us from speaking.”

“Oh, I can think of quite a few things, not least among them how we don’t care for another.” He considered her, the expectant tip of her head, and looked to Padmé, who nodded. “But I suppose I can set that aside for a few minutes if you can.”

“How generous of you,” Burtoni said, and joined their procession to his office.

It was a quiet walk, all of them keeping their peace, even R4 from where she positioned herself between him and Burtoni. Tension was strung tight, though, and not helped by Chik, who had yet to remove his hand from his blaster. Faced with Burtoni’s casual disregard, Obi-Wan couldn’t fault him for that.

By the time they reached his office, his headache had proceeded to an agonizing throb, and Obi-Wan pressed a knuckle to the bridge of his nose to try to lessen the pressure.

“The clone can wait out here,” Burtoni said.

Perhaps she was losing her hearing in her old age, R4 said, whistle nearly a shriek, but his name was Chik and she had no right to—

“It’s all right,” Chik said, fondly nudging R4. “Senator, a word?”

“I’ll join you in a minute,” he said, hoping R4 and Padmé would not start a fight, a hope that rapidly dwindled at the jut of Padmé’s chin and R4’s sharp whistle. Well, they were both adults, and it would be up to them to clean up after any outbreaks of violence. “What is it?” he asked Chik once they were alone.

Chik shifted nervously on his feet before leaning close, “She wasn’t behind the attempt on your life, sir, but I don’t trust her, and I'm not just saying that because of, you know.” He gestured at himself.

“I don’t trust her, either,” Obi-Wan said, “but unfortunately as a senator I can’t refuse to meet with anyone I don’t care for or else nothing would get done.”

Chik didn’t react to the poor joke. “Be careful, sir. I’m out here if you need me.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, and bumped reassuring knuckles against Chik’s shoulder, something he’d seen Rex do more than once with his brothers.

Inside, he found Padmé had taken the good chair, regulating Burton to the bad one as R4 warily circled her. The lack of literal bloodshed was encouraging.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, moving to lean against his desk, “given our acknowledged mutual dislike of one another, why are you here?”

Burtoni shifted in the chair, neck curved uncomfortably downwards as the chair offered no support for it. “Where is that infamous charm I’ve heard so much about?” she said.

“Gone,” Obi-Wan said, “as is my patience. What do you want?”

She smiled, close lipped and smug, and said, “You’re going to withdraw the personhood bill.”

Like hell they were!

Burtoni gave R4 a clinical look. “You should give it a vocoder. We can put one in for you.”

When Obi-Wan was twelve, he came home with a face covered in flaking, dried blood, nose broken, lip split open, right eye swollen shut.

His mother had sighed and sat him down, and said, “Kid, I'm going to tell you the same thing I told your sisters.”

“I know,” he said, wincing as she slathered bacta over his face. “I need to learn how to deescalate a situation and not resort to violence.”

“Well, yes, you should always try diplomacy. Here, get in the light.” She tipped his head back, hands gentle on his cheeks as she examined his nose. “There will be times when words won’t be enough to keep people from being hurt and you’ll have to fight. When you do, you need to put them down. You put them down hard so that they will never get up and hurt anyone again. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he’d answered, but of course it would be years before he did.

“Good.” And then with no warning, and ignoring his startled yelp, she set his nose in one quick, painful movement.

Obi-Wan brushed his knuckles along R4’s dome as he studied Burtoni, the tired slop of her neck and the slant of her closed mouth smile, and thought, quiet and furious, she needed to be put down hard so she would never again look at anyone as if they were things for her to play with.

“Her name is R4,” Obi-Wan said, “and it is her decision if she wants a vocoder or not.”

Exactly. And Burtoni could take her vocoder and shove it up her—

“And why would we ever withdraw the bill?” Padmé asked, giving both him and R4 a quelling look.

“You mean besides the fact you lack the votes to pass it?” Burtoni said.

“We have the votes,” said Padmé.

Burtoni waved one dismissive hand, her rings catching the light. “If that were true you would have brought it to the floor already.”

“The chancellor makes the decision which pieces of legislation are voted on,” Obi-Wan said. “He has yet to bring this one forward.”

“To save you from a humiliating defeat, no doubt.” She leaned back, unable to hide a wince as an errant spring presumably jabbed her. “Have you considered the consequences if it were to pass?”

“Well, we’d no longer have an enslaved people,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “But I doubt that’s your concern.”

“They’re not slaves.” Again that dismissive wave of her hand. “If this bill passes, if the clones are granted personhood,” her mouth twisted on the word, “what happens next? I recall your bill stipulates owed back pay, but we barely have enough money to fund the government as it stands now.”

“We’ve taken that into consideration,” Padmé said. “If we raise taxes on corporations and the highest earning brackets we’d more than cover any deficient spending.”

“And what of the army itself?” Burtoni continued. “Do we force them to serve out their tours or do we allow them to desert? Do we conscript our own citizens to fill the ranks? The Republic hasn’t had a draft in ten generations. We risk an entire collapse of our military, and I should not have to remind you if that happens then the Separatists will be marching on Coruscant in a matter of months.”

R4’s wordless trill was her equivalent of rolling her eyes, and Obi-Wan barely restrained himself from doing the same.

“What an extraordinarily leap of logic,” he said. “And a familiar one. I'm sure I heard it repeated just this morning on Kusak News. It’s almost as if you’ve coordinated your talking points with them.”

“I'm sure it’s a mere coincidence,” Padmé added. “And we’re made recommendations to—”

“Oh, well, if you have _recommendations,_ ” Burtoni said. “That’s nearly as good as a solid plan to deal with the fallout. You’ve always been idealistic, Amidala. You’ve never bothered with the gritty details.”

Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to hold up a hand to forestall Padmé’s protests. Burtoni was obviously pressing them for a reaction, for what end he didn’t know, but he was not in a mood to indulge her. “We’re not withdrawing the bill,” he said.

“No?” she said with a slow and terrible smile. “Not even in exchange for passing the refugee and asylum seeker act? Or for funding for all those programs you want? Education, housing, food, utilities, those sorts of things. Or what about the end to the filibuster blocking extended leave for wounded clones?”

Obi-Wan did his best to keep his expression professional and polite, although he was unable to keep from sharing a surprised look with Padmé. Burtoni was offering them everything they had spent the entire last session trading favors and threats trying to achieve only to be blocked at every turn.

“We have your word all of that would pass?” Padmé asked.

“Yes,” Burtoni said. “All your pet projects get the votes.”

“And all we have to do,” Padmé continued, “is keep our slave army. You would have us trade one life or another.”

“Cut the dramatics,” Burtoni said, genuine annoyance escaping for the first time. “The clones were made to fight this war. They’re no more slaves than that droid is. Should we grant them personhood as well? How about a seat on the senate?”

Not a bad idea, R4 said. They could have hers.

“We’re not dropping the bill,” Obi-Wan said, “tempting as your bribe is.”

“Incentive,” Burtoni corrected. “But if you will not take it then I'm afraid we’ll have to resort to other measures.”

“And what would those be?”

She smiled again. “Legal action, of course.”

“What possible legal action could you have?” Padmé demanded. “Cloning has been illegal for a hundred years. If the rider on the senate’s declaration of war had not passed Kamino would be facing felony charges right now.”

“We must protect our intellectual property,” Burtoni said, neck proudly raising. “The clones are patented and protected property, and by seeking personhood you are—”

“You can’t patent a person!” Obi-Wan snapped, hands clenched tight around the edge of his desk.

“Under the law they’re not people.” She pulled out a data crystal. “And the clone genome and all resulting organic beings is protected property of Kamino. They have been for years, ever since Fett agreed to sell us his genetic material for our proprietary use. It’s all there.”

R4 snatched the crystal from Burtoni’s hand, her processors whining in protest as she scanned the file. It was true, she informed them after a moment. Fett’s genetic code, along with any and all variations and manipulations thereof, was the sole property of Kamino and protected under current Republic law.

“But cloning is illegal,” Padmé said.

“Was illegal. We are the exception due to circumstances the Republic currently finds itself in.”

Obi-Wan relaxed his grip on the desk. “Intellectual property does not supersede basic civil rights.”

“For citizens, perhaps.” Burtoni spread her hands. “But as we’ve established, they are not citizens. This will be a decision for the courts. Unless, of course, you—”

“We are not dropping the bill,” Padmé snapped. “We’ll see you in court.”

“If you insist.” She laboriously stood, a slow and painful process that Obi-Wan was fairly certain was for show. “Your efforts would be better put to use in helping actual Republic civilians during these uncertain times, but it is, of course, your prerogative.”

Padmé, proving she was a better person than he, paced a steadying hand on Burtoni’s shoulder to assist her. “That’s what we’re doing, for _everyone_ in the Republic.”

Burtoni delicately shook her off. “As am I. I only want what’s best for the Republic.”

“We have that in common, Halle,” Obi-Wan said, pushing off the desk to the show her to the door.

“Do we? Perhaps we do.” She paused and said, “We had doubts about our process in the beginning. It would occasionally cough up aberrations. Physical deformities, stunted growth, unusual hair color. Of course, some of those turned out to be exceptional soldiers. CT-7657, for example, was a surprise success. We’ve even used his genome for a line of clones.”

R4 had gone terrifyingly still, and for just a moment Obi-Wan felt his face crack open. Burtoni flinched, and Obi-Wan said, “His name is Rex, as I'm sure you’re aware.”

“Yes, Rex,” she said. “He is very capable. I have no doubt he will continue to serve admirably until the end.”

“He is capable, as you say,” Obi-Wan said. “And honorable. I suspect we’re both watching his career with great interest.”

She smiled again, and said, “Oh, I'm sure we are.”

And with that she took her leave.

“Obi-Wan,” Padmé said, gentle.

Obi-Wan exhaled very slowly and said, “R4, contact Efemena. Let her know she was correct. The Kaminoans are pursuing a legal challenge. Send the data to Hye’Tzin. I want that subpoena ready the moment the Kaminoans file.”

Already done. Hye’Tzin was currently contacting their counsel. They should also reach out to Satine, as this did involve one of her people. She could mount her own challenge to Burtoni,

“Good idea,” he said. “See to it, please.”

“What’s going on?” Padmé asked.

He crossed back to his desk where R4 downloaded the data crystal’s files to his pad. “The Kaminoans have refused every request for any independent institution to review the genetic sequencing for the clones. I know Coruscant University has been trying to get their hands on it, citing the need for both ethical and scientific oversight. Efemena’s people have been doing their best as well, but they’ve been stonewalled.”

“What about the medical records for wounded soldiers?” Padmé said.

“All goes through the Kaminoans,” he replied. “We can’t even get a drop of blood without them claiming theft. But if they take us to court on the grounds of intellectual property—”

“Then they have to prove that they’ve altered the sequence significantly from Fett’s original genome.”

“And to do that it has to be entered into evidence,” Obi-Wan said. “And we finally get to see what they’ve done.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I can’t believe they would risk that.”

“Yes,” he said, frowning. “Burtoni should have realized the first thing we would do is subpoena them.”

“The bill must worry them enough for them deem it worth it,” Padmé said. “We might be able to pull this off after all.”

She sounded so pleased that Obi-Wan did his best to ignore the unease winding through his stomach. Burtoni was too smart for such an obvious mistake. What was she up to?

“Now,” Padmé said, straightening the fall of her skirt, “what did you want to talk to me about before we got waylaid?”

Oh, R4 said as Obi-Wan’s unease gave way to sadness, they had forgotten about this.

“Take a seat, please,” he said.

Padmé’s eyebrows rose but she settled into the chair. Obi-Wan dragged the bad one over and perched on the edge of the seat, reaching for her hand. He could still picture her as the queen come to beg help for her people, head held high and chin jutted out, prideful and furious but still so very young. There was nothing she couldn’t bear, not then and not now.

“Is it Anakin?” she asked, her fingers tightening at his nod. “What happened?”

“You’re aware that Torrent has been deployed to Sarrish?” he said, although he already knew the answer. Anakin was not as careful as he should be, not with Padmé. “They’ve been tasked with retaking the capital. Command has lost contact with them four, no, five days ago now.”

Padmé nodded, her grip on his hand tightening further. “I know the fighting has been hard. There was a lot of territory they needed to retake.”

Progress was not measured by systems or planet anymore. It was now counted in agonizing kilometers.

“They met heavy resistance,” he added, “but nothing that was unexpected. And the loss of contact is most likely due to the Separatists jamming their frequencies and not—well.” He couldn’t bear to finish that sentence.

She exhaled, slow and measured, and said, “Who have you been in contact with?”

“Commander Cody,” he said.

“Cody’s a good man. He’ll keep you updated.”

“And you,” Obi-Wan added, gentle. “I know you and Anakin are close.”

“He’s a dear friend,” she said with only a small trace of irony. “I appreciate you letting me know.”

“Of course.” He squeezed her fingers. “We’re in this together.”

She smiled and then gently withdrew her hand to smooth her hair back into place. “I have to go deal with the education cuts. How do I look?”

“Like you can take on the entire senate.”

“Good,” she said, standing, “because I'm going to.”

“I know,” he said, smiling as fondly, head held high and chin jutted out, Padmé went to do just that.

* * *

The next two days were uneventful to the point Obi-Wan grew concerned it was all a plot to lull him into a false sense of security. A concern that was proven correct when Efemena burst into his office without even a cursory knock.

“Senator,” Ghost said, stepping aside.

All three brothers had granted Efemena full access, in part, Obi-Wan knew from experience, because Efemena did what she wanted when she wanted with the self-assurance of a woman who expected the galaxy to either adapt to her needs or have the good sense to get out of her way.

It might also have to do with the fact that Fox was wearing the new armored hand plates and refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“Lieutenant,” Efemena said. “This asshole giving you any trouble?”

Always, R4 piped up from her customary position at his side.

“Not today,” Ghost said. “He’s been working quietly all morning.”

Obi-Wan didn’t bother to look up from the latest jobs report. Unemployment numbers were holding steady, but several economists were expecting an increase given the way the war was going. “Efemena, have I mentioned how glad I am you’ve made nice with my protection detail?”

“Someone had to, if they’re going to put up with you.” She handed a takeaway box to Ghost. “I need a moment with Kenobi. There’s Trellian pork rolls for you.”

“Thank you,” said Ghost, taking the box and lifting the lid. “I’ll be outside—”

“If I need you, I know,” Obi-Wan said fondly as Ghost stepped out, already wrestling his helmet off. “What have I done now to deserve your visit?”

“Nothing, for once.” She tossed a data pad on his desk and, after a moment of consideration, took the good chair. “I’ve brought good news.”

R4 whistled curiously and immediately downloaded the file onto her internal database.

He picked up the pad, skimming over the numbers. Wait,” he said, forcing himself to slow down as R4 started to vibrate with excitement. “Is this…”

“The Owellian Syndicate has pledged their support,” Efemena said.

“Last I was aware they were still advocating isolation. How did you manage to get them?”

“I didn’t. Chuchi did.” When Obi-Wan glanced up, surprised, she said, “She’s been working on them for months. She convinced the Chairman to agree to a trade deal with them and the neighboring system, who in return gave their support. You should be proud of her.”

“I am,” he said.

R4 nudged him so hard his chair rolled to the side. They had the votes.

“We have the votes,” he echoed, stunned.

Efemena kicked her feet up on his desk. “We have the votes.”

They had the votes! R4 called dibs on telling Rex. She had already begun to compile a message.

“You can’t call dibs,” he said, smiling.

There was still work to be done—pressure to apply to Palpatine to bring the bill to the floor, a timeline for implementation, addressing the military concerns, budgetary concerns—but that was for later. For right now, in this moment, he savored the sweet, sharp tang of victory.

Which was when the alarm sounded.

“Keep away from the windows,” Ghost barked, locking down the door behind him before entering the code to do the same for the windows, the protective armor snapping into place.

R4’s circuits lit up as she attempted to access the senate intranet. She wasn’t getting a signal. What was happening?

“Building is in lockdown,” Ghost said, and then activated his comm. “Senators Kenobi and Efemena have been secured.” There was no audible reply, which meant all orders were being issued over the secure HUD channel. “Yes, sir. Understood. Out.”

Efemena dropped her feet back to the floor. “Care to share?” she asked, resigned, as if she already knew the answer.

“There’s been another attack,” Ghost answered. “You’re to remain here until the threat has been contained.”

Obi-Wan met Efemena’s gaze, watching as the realization settle over her. She held out her hand for the pad. Obi-Wan passed it over, and after a moment of increasingly aggressive tapping, she said, “They cut all internal communications?”

“Only emergency channels are open per protocol,” Ghost said.

“Fuck,” she said, throwing the pad back onto his desk with unnecessary force. “ _Fuck.”_

 

“We don’t know for certain this is connected to the bill,” Obi-Wan said.

“What else could it be?” she snapped.

“Who had access to this information?”

“My immediate staff only. Organa and Amidala don’t know yet. Chuchi just sent it to me over…” she trailed off, and they all stared at the pad.

“R4,” he said quietly, “I need you to run an analysis on Efemena’s system. Look for security breaches, glitches in the code, anything abnormal in her messages.”

She was already on it. It would take some time, especially with the intranet offline. She only had local access for now.

“And be careful,” he added. “This is very sensitive, and we can’t afford to alert the wrong parties, if any are involved.”

R4 trilled an eye roll. She was quite aware of the stakes, thank you. Honestly, he acted as if she never broke into high level clearance systems before.

“ _Theoretically_ broke into high level clearances systems,” he said meaningfully.

Of course. Theoretically.

The sound Ghost made could once again charitably be called a cough.

“Lieutenant,” he said, and Ghost straightened to attention. “While I appreciate you have your orders, this is a delicate situation that requires discretion.”

“My orders are to protect you, Senator,” Ghost said, each word picked with care. “I report directly to Commander Fox. My orders have not changed.”

“I understand,” he said, grateful.

“Remind me do something nice for you boys,” Efemena said. Her immediate anger had seemingly faded, as if she had carefully dammed it for what she needed it most.

“I can only speak for myself,” Ghost said, “but I'm sure Commander Fox wouldn’t say no to any more armor, if you have some lying about.”

“Oh, I think I can dig some up,” Efemena said, and kicked her feet back up onto the desk. “Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for awhile. You got any cards, Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan dug out an old pack of sabbac cards and dealt a hand. R4 was an unrepentant cheater, but then so was Efemena and, surprisingly, Ghost when he could be coaxed to join in. They played for favors, and by the time the all clear was sounded nearly two hours later Obi-Wan was owed more than he was indebted, although R4 had done her best to clean them all out.

Ghost’s head cocked to the side. “Commander Fox is on his way,” he said, and proceeded to unlock the windows and door.

By the time Fox arrived, Obi-Wan had stowed the cards away while Efemena arranged herself in the chair for maximum attention.

“Senators,” Fox said, and it was impossible to tell if he had noticed the sprawl of Efemena’s legs or not.

“I believe I told you to call me Efe,” Efemena said.

Fox went stiff backed, although judging by the tilt of his helmet he was directing a glare at Ghost, who couldn’t quite manage to smother another cough.

“Lieutenant, ensure we’re not interrupted,” Fox said, and Ghost nodded and took up a station outside the door, which he keyed shut behind him.

“Is there an update, Commander?” Obi-Wan asked.

“There was another attack,” Fox said.

“Who?” he asked.

“Senator Orn Free Taa.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Of course, he thought, distantly aware of R4 echoing Efemena’s vehement swearing. Of course he was targeted. Who else would it be?

“I'm guessing he wasn’t injured?” Efemena said sourly. “We should be so lucky.”

“No, Senator,” Fox answered. “Fortunately, our would be assassin has poor aim. We were able to track her down to the lower levels. From the looks of it she’d been holed up there for awhile.”

“You apprehended her?” Obi-Wan asked.

Fox shook his head. “She was dead by the time we arrived. Poison capsule. We’re still sifting through her files, but she has several ties to a Separatist insurgency cell. And from what we can tell she didn’t care for your or you politics.”

R4 rocked back. That couldn’t be right. She needed access to those files. All their intelligence indicated that the Separatists were in favor of the personhood bill in hopes it would hasten a military collapse.

“This is in the senate guard’s hands now,” Fox said pointedly, “and all evidence points to her being a Separatist loyalist.” He took out a small communication jammer, one Obi-Wan knew for a fact was illegal on Core worlds, and set it on the desk. “Are we secure?” he asked R4.

She locked down all communications the moment the holo intranet was restored. Nothing could get through without her knowing, and she knew everything.

“Almost everything,” Obi-Wan said, and got his toes trod for it.

Fox cleared his throat. “Officially, the perpetrator has been found, and your protection detail is no longer needed as the investigation is closed.”

“And unofficially?” Efemena asked.

“Unofficially, this smells worse than month old bantha shit, and I'm assigning Lieutenant Ghost and the corporals to keep an eye on you both until I get to the bottom of this.”

“I don’t need to be looked after,” Efemena said, scowling.

“With all due respect,” Fox said, a touch of wry amusement to his voice, “from what I know of you and Kenobi, neither of you are capable of keeping a low profile. I’d sleep better at night if I knew when you inevitably cause trouble my men have your back, Efe.”

“Oh,” Efe said, and Obi-Wan had the absolute pleasure of seeing her struck dumb.

“We appreciate it, Commander,” Obi-Wan said. “R4, did you find anything in Efemena’s files?”

Nothing, not even in the data cache that everyone forgot to delete. It was like the system had been wiped clean.

“Send me what you have,” Fox said. “And make sure no one notices you poking around where you’re not supposed to be.”

She whistled, offended. Did she go around telling him how to do his job? Of course she didn’t, and she would appreciate him returning the courtesy.

“You tell everyone how to do their jobs,” Obi-Wan said. “Anything else, Commander?”

Fox snorted. “Chancellor Palpatine wants a word with you both. He’s on his way.”

“I need you to record this meeting,” Obi-Wan quietly said to R4.

She was going to do that anyway. She didn’t trust the chancellor. He made her mainframe itch as if she had a loose connector.

“And,” Obi-Wan added, “I need you to be…unobtrusive.”

She rocked back. And what did he mean by _that?_

 

“You know perfectly well what I mean.” He crouched down to her level. “You know how we organics tend to overlook droids. I need you to use that to your advantage. Please, my dear, I need your help.”

Fine. She tilted forward to nudge her dome up against his chin. But only because he couldn’t pull this off without her.

“I absolutely cannot.” He pressed his forehead to her casing before straightening. “What?” he asked Fox and Efemena.

“Nothing, sir,” Fox said quickly as he retrieved his jammer.

“You’re both adorable,” Efemena reached for her pad. “So you do know what’s going to happen.”

“I have my suspicions,” he answered, taking a seat at his desk, R4 rolling over to join him. “I hope I’m wrong.”

“I hope you’re wrong, too,” she said.

When Palpatine arrived, trailed by three senate guards, he and Efemena were bent over their pads, drafting responses to the latest incident for their staffs to release in the coming hours.

“Already hard at work, I see,” Palpatine said. “Ah, Commander, I was unaware you were here.”

“As Senator Kenobi was a prior target,” Fox said, hands folded behind his back, “I wanted to ensure his safety for myself.”

“I see.” Palpatine cast a glance to where Efemena sat, expression polite and guileless.

“Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said, standing. R4 very quietly activated her recorder. “Please, take a seat.”

Efemena stood as well and offered her chair. “It’s the good one,” she said.

“Oh no, I won’t be long.” To the guards he said, “If you could give us a moment?”

Fox waited for the other to exit first before he followed.

“I take it you heard?” Palpatine said.

“Yes,” Efemena answered. “Is Senator Taa unharmed?”

Palpatine’s smile was small and tired. “He’s shaken up, but he’s fine, though you wouldn’t know it from how he goes on.”

“He certainly does go on,” Efemena agreed with a congeniality Obi-Wan did not know she possessed. “If I may ask, Chancellor, is there a reason for this visit?”

Palpatine sighed, and said, regretful, “You deserve the courtesy of hearing this from me. I am withdrawing the personhood bill from consideration.”

Even though Obi-Wan had been expecting it, the first crest of anger still took him by surprise. “You can’t,” he snapped before he thought better of it.

Palpatine’s eyebrows rose. “My dear boy, I'm—”

“Senator,” Efemena said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“His title is senator.” She tucked her pad away, hands demurely laced together. “As is mine, Chancellor.”

“My apologies, senators,” Palpatine said, something akin to annoyance flickering over his face, there and gone. “You must understand this is the second time a sitting senator has come under attack in the same number of weeks. I cannot have members of the government being targeted for assassination.”

“Isn’t that why we have Commander Fox and his men?” Efemena asked. “And the senate guard, of course.”

“Your job is to represent the people,” Palpatine said, “not to worry if each new piece of legislation will be your last. I will not abide you living in fear.”

“So we instead allow the Separatists to dictate our policies?” Obi-Wan demanded. R4 trilled a quiet warned, and he said, softer, “How is that different than living in fear?”

Palpatine sighed, looking as if the years had been carved into him. “There is also the matter of the votes.”

“We have the votes,” Efemena said, her expression giving nothing away.

Palpatine’s gaze darted to her, surprised. “Do you?”

“Call an emergency session,” she continued. “We can put it to a vote tonight before the Separatists try again.”

Palpatine looked thoughtful, and for a moment Obi-Wan believed they’d got it wrong. Palpatine may be concerned about their safety, but he would do his duty for the Republic.

But then he shook his head and said, “I really am sorry, but I cannot take a chance with your lives or risk weakening our army at this critical juncture. When the war is over, we can revisit the issue.”

“Isn’t that what we said about the Hutts and their slave trade?” Obi-Wan said. Efemena sent him a sharp look. “We still haven’t done anything. In fact, we made a deal with them.”

“Kenobi,” Efemena said.

Obi-Wan ignored her. “Have you ever been to a slave market, Chancellor?”

“No,” Palpatine said, quiet.

“That’s what I thought. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you had.”

“The clones are not slaves,” Palpatine said, irritation seeping into his voice.

“Aren’t they?” The fury crested higher, and he clasped his hands behind his back so Palpatine wouldn’t see how he shook with it. “They’re fighting this war for us. They’re _dying_ for us and we won’t even recognize them as people under the law. Instead we make deals with slavers and capitulate to acts of terrorism. Where’s the justice we’re so proud of?

“ _Obi-Wan_ ,” Efemena snapped, and it brought him up short. “I know how important this is to you, but that’s enough.”

Palpatine studied him, a strange detachment to his gaze, as if Obi-Wan were a pet who performed a surprising new trick. And then it was gone, a heavy weariness taking its place.

“This war requires much from us,” Palpatine said, “but we will see it through, for the good of the Republic. We are its servants, after all.”

“Yes, we are,” Efemena said with a pointed look to him.

“My apologies,” Obi-Wan said. “I know you have the Republic’s best interests at heart.”

“I'm sorry, too, my boy,” Palpatine said kindly. “I wish it could be different.”

“Chancellor,” Efemena said when Palpatine turned towards the door. “May we have your word that once the war is won personhood will be granted for the clones?”

“Of course,” Palpatine said, surprised. “We’ll take care of them. They are, after all, taking care of us.”

“I'm glad we agree on that,” she said.

“Now,” Palpatine said, heading to the door and the guards outside, “let’s make sure our dear Senator Taa has come down from his panic attack.”

Once Obi-Wan was sure they were alone, he said, “What the hell was that? You didn’t even try to argue!”

“R4,” Efemena said, ignoring him, “did you get everything?”

Why did everyone think she was incompetent today? Yes, she got it. When she and Obi-Wan returned home, she would encrypt the file and upload it to a secure, localized database that was not connected to the holonet.

“Excellent,” Efemena said. “We have him admitting to caving to pressure from the Separatists and promising full rights for the clones once the war is over. I’d prefer something a bit more damning, but let’s take what we can get. And you,” she said, rounding on Obi-Wan, “I told you I don’t abide stupidity.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your little justice rant. It wasn’t wrong, but you got his back up. We can’t tip our hand this early.”

“And what is our hand?” he asked.

“Don’t play dumb. It’s not cute.” She tapped at her pad. “Set up that meeting with Mothma, the sooner the better. We can’t afford to give Palpatine time to think.”

“So you do want to depose him,” Obi-Wan said.

“Yes,” she said slowly, as if it was obvious. “And so do you.”

“Oh, I do?” he said, annoyed.

“Don’t play coy with me.” She jabbed finger into his sternum. “I know you’ve been watching him almost as long as I have. You know where this is all heading or you would never have introduced that bill in the first place and you definitely would not have introduced your captain to me.”

Well, R4 said into the silence that fell, she wasn’t wrong.

“Yes, thank you,” he said. “I have been observing the situation, but if you’re right—” her eyebrows rose and he corrected himself, “—if _we’re_ right, this is going to take more than a vote of no confidence.”

“I'm aware. That’s why we still need to get our hands on the genetic sequence. I don’t trust those long neck bastards. And we need to find out what Palpatine is planning.”

“This almost sounds like treason.”

Efemena tipped her chin up, amusement lurking in the curve of her mouth. “Well, I would hope so. This would be a lot of effort if it weren’t.”

R4 changed her mind. She liked Efemena.

Obi-Wan supposed he did, too, despite himself.

“Why are you doing this? And don’t,” he added, “give me a line about serving the Republic. Why are you really doing all of this?”

Efemena cocked a head to her side, assessing him, and Obi-Wan let himself be studied in the hopes she liked what she found.

Finally, she said, “You asked Palpatine if he’d ever been to a slave market. He hadn’t, but I have, once. I’ve seen what happens when we treat people as things, and I will do whatever it takes to stop it from happening here, even if it means burning down the Republic.”

“Now that _is_ treason.”

“Maybe it is,” she agreed, “but when this is over, we all have to live with what we’ve done. And I don’t know about you, Kenobi, but I intend to live a very long time.”

“Do you know,” he said, “despite everything, I believe you’re a good woman, Efemena.”

“Well, you always have been a fool,” she said, a softness to the words he hadn’t heard before. “Now go play nice with Mon Mothma. We’ve work to do.”

* * *

Ghost arranged transportation back to the apartment and insisted on piloting the speeder himself, despite Obi-Wan’s protests.

“It’s no trouble,” Ghost said. “Besides, the commander asked us to keep an eye on you. You need anything, we’re here.”

“Remind me to send the squad something nice,” he said to R4 once Ghost had dropped them off.

She already ordered them several bags of caf as well as a fancy new machine to brew it and charged it all to his account.

“What would I do without you?” he said, heading to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

Waste away, most likely, if she had to guess. She followed so close on his heels that he was in danger of tripping.

“You’re hovering,” he said, trying to step around her to get to the milk. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong. Couldn’t she just enjoy his company?

He turned a long, slow look on her.

That was hardly called for.

He raised his eyebrows.

All right, fine. She was worried about him. She knew how important that bill was to him. And he was a terrible loser.

“We didn’t lose,” he retorted, proving her point. “We always knew this was a possibility. We need to readjust our strategy. That’s all.”

R4 didn’t seem convinced, tagging along as he retreated to his office. Well, technically it was R4’s office, but she magnanimously allowed him a corner to work in.

Tomorrow he would speak with Satine to update her on the recent developments. With any luck, and depending how annoyed she was with the Republic’s latest attempt to undermine Mandalore’s neutrality, she would decide to file suit against the Kaminoans for their unauthorized use of Mandalorian genes. Hye’Tzin could coordinate with her as the two of them got along far too well for his peace of mind.

Then there was Mon Mothma and the delicate process of building a political alliance. Perhaps he would have Padmé assist, or Riyo, who was proving quite adept at politics. And the budget fight still lay ahead, as did his and Riyo’s work to integrate more support roles into the GAR.

And, R4 said as gentle as she could be, there was Rex.

He pushed his hands through his hair, fingers digging into the base of his scalp. “I wanted to do this for him,” he admitted quietly.

She wanted that, too. Was he going to tell Rex everything?

“It may put him in danger if I do.”

He was in active warzones. How was this more dangerous?

“We know how,” he said, and R4 whistled sadly.

Yes, they knew.

“But I trust him,” Obi-Wan said, because he made his choice and there was no use pretending otherwise. “Now I'm in need of a secure channel and the heaviest encryption you’ve got. There’s much to do.”

It’d grown late by the time he was done sending messages to everyone from his family to Stewjon’s prime minister to Satine to even a few of his unsavory contacts in the Outer Rim, and Obi-Wan didn’t put up a fight as R4 herded him off to bed. He let her fuss over him until she felt better.

“You’re staying here tonight?” he asked when she settled into her auxiliary charging port.

Only to help him rest. She hoped he appreciated it because she didn’t actually enjoy forcing him to take care of himself.

“Yes you do,” he said, lowering the lights.

Well, maybe she liked it a little.

He smiled. “Good night, my dear.”

Good night, Obi-Wan.

He fell asleep to the gleam of Coruscant’s lights reflecting off R4’s chrome casing, only to come awake to the persistent beep of his comm.. It felt like only minutes had passed but, judging by the gray light filtering in, must have been hours.

R4 grumbled, her circuits barely flickering as she demanded he turn it off.

“The one time you respect my privacy,” he complained as he fumbled for his personal comm, trying to figure out who would call him at this early. “Hondo, I told you we would talk at a normal hour.”

“Who’s Hondo?” Rex asked.

Obi-Wan jolted upright, calling up the lights only to wince at the brightness. “Rex?”

R4 exited low power mode so quickly he heard her processors whine. Rex! Where had he been? The 501st’s battlefield reports were an absolute disgrace and told her nothing. They’d been so worried.

“Easy,” Rex said, holding up a hand. “That’s too fast for me. We just got back.”

Rex looked, well, not terrible—Rex never did—but worn down, as if a protective layer had been scraped away.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” Rex said.

R4 did not believe that. Where was his medical record? Did Kix clear him?

Obi-Wan shushed her, which only earned him an offended whistle; he was going to pay for that later.

“Kix cleared me,” Rex said.

“No new scars?” Obi-Wan asked.

Rex ducked his head, and even over the poor holo connection Obi-Wan could see the tips of his ears turn red. “No new scars. Promise.” Rex glanced up. “I like your new look.”

“My new—” He combed his fingers through his hair, trying to get it to lay flat. Rex smiled at his futile effort. “You’re one to talk. You need a cut.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rex scrubbed a hand through his hair; it was starting to curl over the tops of his ears.

“I like it,” Obi-Wan said, and Rex smiled. “Are you really okay?”

“We took the capital two days ago. Casualties were heavier than expected, but we made it through.”

“And Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Took some shrapnel to the shoulder, but he’s fine. He’s making his own call.”

Padmé would be relieved to hear from him.

“Although,” Rex added, “we’re not the ones who were almost poisoned.”

“You got my message,” Obi-Wan said.

“I got your message. It was not as reassuring as you thought it was.”

The sad part was that was his best effort, too.

Obi-Wan glared at R4, who snickered, totally unrepentant. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he said.

“Well, I am,” Rex said. “Worried, I mean.”

“You shouldn’t be. Fox had it under control. They found the assailant.”

Rex’s eyebrows rose. “He worked fast.”

“I did mention he was afraid of your reaction if he didn’t.” Obi-Wan hesitated, glancing to R4.

She did not have the time to scramble the signal to her specifications, and so they were relying on the GAR’s system. He would therefore need to be discreet.

“There was another attempt,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “Not against me, but another senator. It was unsuccessful, but by the time Fox tracked the assailant down she was dead. Poison capsule.”

“Motive?” Rex asked.

“It appears she was part of a Separatist cell. It’s likely this was an attempt to kill the bill.”

Rex frowned. “Are you sure? Latest chatter suggested the Separatists were in favor of it.”

“The evidence is apparently overwhelming, although I’ve yet to see it.”

Rex’s eyebrows rose, and then, so quick Obi-Wan almost missed it, he tapped out the code for _not secure to talk._

 

_Will coordinate another time,_ Obi-Wan replied.

“The bill’s been pulled,” he said, because that would be public knowledge in another few hours. “We’ll revisit it when the war is over.”

“ _Shit._ I’m sorry, Obi-Wan.”

“Me too,” he said quietly. “But I'm far from being done.”

“Yeah, didn’t think you were.” Rex sounded unbearably fond. “You’re very stubborn.”

“Oh, _I'm_ stubborn? According to Cody, you’re not exactly amendable either.”

“Don’t talk to Cody. All he does is lie.”

“Well, I normally wouldn’t,” Obi-Wan said, “but someone thought to have him contact me.”

Rex stiffened and his gaze landed left of Obi-Wan’s ear. “If something were to happen to me, I’d want you to know. Cody is aware of my wishes.”

It was, Obi-Wan thought, unfair of Rex to say things like that when he was far away and Obi-Wan could only let the words take root in his chest amongst his ribs and lungs and heart.

“Thank you,” he said. “R4 knows it’s the same for me.”

“Oh,” Rex said, tension easing out of him. “Good. That’s good.”

R4, apparently done with their emotional display, poked Obi-Wan in the knee and demanded he inform Rex about Efemena and Fox.

“What about them?” Rex asked.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Efemena is, ah, courting Commander Fox.”

Rex looked as if he just received an extra month of leave. “She’s doing what?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Efemena has taken quite the shine to him. She’s been sending him little gifts, pastries, the newest hand plate armor prototype for him to field test. Things like that.”

Rex’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. “Hand plates?”

“From what I understand they’ve been improved to allow you lot to punch even more droids in the head.”

“And he’s _wearing_ them?” Rex said.

“By all accounts he’s found them quite satisfactory.”

Rex laughed, and Obi-Wan’s breath caught. Rex smiled but rarely laughed, and never like this, opened mouthed and curling forward, achingly young. If Rex had been here, Obi-Wan would have kissed the taste of it from his mouth to keep for himself.

“He doesn’t stand a chance,” Rex said, grinning.

“Efemena is very determined,” he agreed.

A chime sounded, and Rex’s smile fell away. “I'm out of time. I have to—”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, gently. “We’ll talk soon. R4 will arrange it.”

Yes, leave everything to her, mostly because she didn’t trust either of them to manage.

“Make sure you take care of yourself,” Rex said.

That’s why he had her.

“You too, R4. You’re just as bad as him.”

She rocked in mock outrage. How dare he. She was much better than Obi-Wan.

“Uh-huh,” Rex said, unimpressed.

“Be safe,” Obi-Wan said.

Rex hesitated, and then said, quick and soft, “I miss you.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. “I miss you, too.”

He smiled as Rex’s imaged flickered and faded as the connection was severed.

R4 pressed close. At least now they knew he wasn’t dead.

“Yes, at least we know,” he agreed.

And there had been a lot of feelings and he handled them all very well. She was so proud of him.

“I’ve been told I'm really growing as a person.”

It had to happen sooner or later. Much, much later in his case.

He ran his hand along her dome. “I love you, too.”

Together they watched the sun come up.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's all take a moment and appreciate my biochemist father who, after patiently answering all my questions regarding scientific patents and hypothetical situations involving genetic sequencing, cloning, and applications there of, asked in the defeated voice of a man who knows the answer but wished he didn't, "Is this for the Star Wars clones?"
> 
> Yeah, dad, it's always for the Star Wars clones.
> 
> You can also find me over at [tumblr](https://dharmaavocado.tumblr.com).


End file.
